Week 26: This Week’s Winning Stories
What Went Down
They found me! It’s night now with many attendants on the plane. If I tried to escape, I would be noticed. They’re onto me; I need to get out of here. The aisle is clear, which means if I had to run, I could, but I hope it doesn’t come down to that. The people we’re up against call themselves K.N.I.G.H.T. It stands for Killing National Intelligence Gains Terror. Our job is to stop them to living up to their name, which means people like me have to be meddling in their affairs constantly Right now, that’s not working well.
I can’t see them, but I know they’re near. I can’t get a hold of the council of my organization either. They’re probably jamming my communications, which means I’m on my own. Why do they want me, though? Are they even here for me? If so, how did they know I was here to intercept them and deter them from delivering the gem to the sheikh? Or are they after someone else? I could really use a prophet right now to give me some kind of prophecy so I could know what will happen next. No matter what, I can’t be allowed to accept defeat.
This is like one big game of chess. They have made their move; now it’s my move. The plane then jerked, starting a movement that felt like an ascent. Suddenly, rather than ascent, the plane begins nose-diving in sharp, terrifying descent. That’s when I tell myself aloud, “I seriously need to get a medal for this mission.” That is, if I make it out alive.
The Knight of the Lone Isle
The knight of the lone isle was on his way to the high council to meet with the sheikh because the sheikh requested the presence of this great hero, who was home to many medals. The hero was to travel at night so as to avoid any unwanted attention.
The hero arrives to his destination and is passing the aisle of books and scrolls full of knowledge. He kneels in front of them, and the sheikh commands, “Rise.”
The hero stands up and stares up to look at the council. The sheikh has a very chic style, one that doesn’t really appeal to me, but I have to deal with it.
A council member speaks. “We are making you a seeker.”
“But why? Is there a problem?” questions the hero.
“Yes,” replies the council member, “you must go and seek the prophet for your first quest.”
The hero wondered what this oracle had in mind for him.
“Who said that? Who said Zeal?” Domino started up a slight growl.
A lean male dog stepped out of the brambles and Amethyst looked shocked. “Gunner?”
“Um, you know each other?” Domino looked down and played with a strand of grass.
Amethyst smiled and she and Gunner nuzzled.
“I’m so happy to see you!” Amethyst howled with joy.
“Why are you here?” Domino ushered away his sudden bitterness.
“Just stopping by,” Gunner slyly looked at Domino.
“Um, okay, how do you know each other?” Domino tried to smile; he suddenly didn’t really feel like talking. Gunner’s presence just felt uncomfortable.
“Gunner used to be in the pack but then got kicked out, I haven’t seen him in such a long time,” Amethyst beamed at Domino.
“Uh, nice, I’m going to go to sleep over here, in this little corner,” Domino dragged his paws to a small hole in the bottom of a nearby tree. He plopped down onto the ground and sighed as he sleepily gazed at the night sky.
Domino woke up to find that he had at least eight shiny crystal shards scattered around him. He quickly poked the crystals and they blew up in a mini explosion just as Amethyst trotted up to him.
“I’m going to go hunting with Gunner. Do you want to come?” Amethyst hopefully beamed at Domino. Domino was happy be allowed to come along, it comforted him that Amethyst wasn’t going to just leave him.
“I’m fine, thanks,” the wolf silently licked his paw. It wasn’t a waste to reject the opportunity, was it?
Amethyst shrugged and walked off to Gunner. Domino scooted closer to them and overheard their conversation.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘hey’ before.”
“I always say hey.”
“Oh, well it just sounded weird then.”
Domino watched them walk away into the aisle of trees and he sat there with complete jealously. He scrambled away to the closest oak and decided to practice using his power.
“C’mon,” he muttered and he continued to try to blast the tree with some light. A spark fell onto some moss and grass. A miniature flame burst from the grass and Domino yelped then stomped it out.
“Jeez,” he said aloud without meaning to.
Domino was abruptly smacked in the face by feathers. He grimaced and pulled the phoenix down so he could see him better.
“How do you like the name Zeal?” The phoenix squawked and excitedly pounded the ground with its big wings.
“Zeal it is,” Domino reached out and hugged Zeal. He had seen humans hug other humans and sometimes him. Domino had never hugged anything but he always said that there is a first time for everything.
“Domino!” shouted Amethyst; she hurriedly sprinted out of the woods. “Gunner just had the best idea!”
“We’re going to go and destroy the core crystal!” Gunner was very excited as he presented the idea.
“Won’t that kill me?” Domino didn’t feel like dying anytime soon. “Since it’s going to destroy all the crystals… what about the one on my chest?”
“Of course the affect of it won’t kill you. It will destroy all the other crystal shards though,” Gunner’s ear twitched and he slapped it down with his paw.
“It’s the perfect idea,” Amethyst jumped up and down like a young pup.
Gunner bounded off to the core crystal and Amethyst and Domino followed behind.
“I think this might kill me and Zeal,” Domino whispered to Amethyst.
“I know it might. I want to see where this is going,” she whispered back.
“Why did you seem so happy about it then?” Domino questioned.
“Acting my friend, acting.”
Past Years’ Winning Stories
The Dark Knight
He stalks criminals that steal to make profit.
He dresses like a bat
And has a symbol of one on his chest.
He glides from rooftop to rooftop
And stands stationary on tall buildings before leaping down to another.
Catching those who cause crime in the night.
Even though he is considered a criminal in Gotham.
He continues to affect others by making Gotham
A safer and better place.
He is my favorite hero
Because he’s inspiring, heroic
(And he dropkicks villains at the end of his ascent.)
His chic sense of style complements his lifestyle.
In the effects of his hard work, his integrity will hopefully prove itself.
He is Batman!
I was pondering whether to wear a gray dress with red lace or a sapphire blue dress with purple gems when my older sister, Bea, waltzed in.
“What do you think of my dress?” she questioned, sporting a beautiful hot pink knee-length dress. Later this evening, we would be attending a ball, hosted by our family, the royal family of Jeffland.
“It’s super chic!” I compliment, not entirely sure what that meant, but knowing that it was probably something she would want to hear.
“Thanks!” she said, enthusiastically. She turned to leave, but then stopped in the doorway, “Oh, and I think you should wear the gray dress,” she continued.
“Thanks!” I called after her.
The ball would be hosted in Refgon, the capital of Jeffland, in our royal palace. The ball would begin at twelve o’clock at night, and dukes, duchesses, other royal families, and our top knights would all attend.
Five hours later, I walked down the hall to the ballroom behind my family. I ran my hand along the coarse wall of the castle, nervously. This was the first year that I was allowed to go to the ball, because I had just turned thirteen. Bea could tell I was scared, and she tried to make me feel better.
“Hey, you’ll be fine! I was really nervous, too!” she comforted me.
“If you say so…” I muttered.
“I know so!” she said, obviously excited to get to the ball.
In an effort to distract myself, I tried to think about what the main course would be or what type of stationery would be used for the menus or if the ball would make the front page news of the Jeffland Prophet. I did this until my fear had no effect on me.
Suddenly, we reached the end of the hall and two guards opened the two large double doors. My family stepped in and I hesitated. “Here goes nothing,” I murmured and stepped inside the ballroom.
The Boring Conversation
“And it all would’ve worked out if it weren’t for you meddling kids,” I heard as I walked by the TV on my way to the kitchen. It seems as if my little brother Abel just finished an episode of his absolute favorite show, Scooby Doo! which he had been able to watch since he was four when he asked my mom about it while she was busy, and not wanting him to waste her precious time, she assented to the proposal, which she regrets to this day.
The one really good thing that came out of that for me is that now my mom never lets him fool her, especially when she’s cleaning our so-dirty-you-couldn’t-even-find-one-compliment-for-if-you-tried-when-it-was-pristine house, because that is when she has to focus the most. Here’s the best part: whenever Abel tries to fool her, he gets a half hour time out in the “shame chair,” which my other brother, Aiden and I always like to taunt him about.
As I grabbed a snack in the kitchen, I heard “Boomerang presents…Scooby Doo!” and groaned.
My brother paused the show, “What?” he questioned.
“Nothing,” I replied, wishing I hadn’t let any noise slip out.
“Is it about the show?” he asked, seemingly curious, “Because it’s really good. I’ve watched this episode before, and it is about this ghost of a knight who goes off and scares people at carnivals during the night, and then the crew has to save the carnivals and conquer the ghost, which they do by seeing three old witches who tell them to ascend up a certain hill, where they will find the knight. Once they catch him, before they take off the mask, they see a symbol of a dragonfly on his shirt, and this clue makes the sleuths understand that he belonged to a secret group of troublemakers who decided to force him to tell them where the group is hiding so they can go after them. That’s where the one episode ends, but another one will come out soon. It’s really very good.”
“Mmmmhuh,” I said, thinking that writing a two-page essay on the line, “‘Prophet!’ said I, ‘thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil!’” of The Raven would be more interesting than hearing my brother describe this television episode. “Hey,” I said, “I would love to stay and chat, but I have to do homework. Sorry.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” he replied, looking crestfallen, “you can go.”
“Thanks. Maybe next time?” I asked, starting to walk away.
“Yeah, next time,” he said.
Fashion Gone Wrong
by Mo and Zoey
“Magnificent! Brava! That is one of the best designs! It is so chic!” says Journey, one of the council members. Journey is a woman who wants to steal Monet’s designs for a summer line that she is creating.
“I know, I know; I’m the best designer in all of Paris. Thank you for the compliment,” replies Monet.
Journey sneaks into the dressing room where all of Monet’s design sketches and outfits are located. “I will take her designs before she knows it. Maybe I can even get an award medal and make a lot of profit for my ‘work.’” This is her plan, and tonight is the night.” Journey laughs while she meddles and walks around the room.
After a thorough examination of the dressing room, Journey sneaks into Monet’s other room, which is also full of clothes and designs. At the entryway to this room stand two knights (they are Monet’s security guards, just dressed up). Journey steers clear of the knights.
“I wonder if they know I’m in their presence,” says Journey to herself quietly as she walks up the aisle of clothes.
Later that night, the attendants of the building are hard at work when they hear a loud crash. “That’s weird; no one is allowed in the building without first signing in,” one attendant says to the other.
“You’re right,” responds the second attendant. “We should send security to check it out.”
When security arrives to the room, no one is there. Monet’s sketches are gone and so are some designs. Security calls the attendants though their walkie talkies and tells them to quickly get to the room because Monet’s sketches and designs are gone.
“Did someone break in?” says the first security guard. Clearly, he isn’t that bright.
“No,” says the second security guard sarcastically. “The designs and sketches magically disappeared into thin air all on their own…Of course someone broke in!” he yells.
The next day, Journey again sneaks into Monet’s space, and hides in one of the closets as she hears the security men walking and talking. She stays as still as she can, so she doesn’t bump into the waste bucket.
“This is going to affect the people who bought tickets to my fashion show!” exclaims Monet, who has just learned of the theft of her designs and sketches. “I am devastated. The money from the fashion show was supposed to be for Christmas presents. If there aren’t any presents for my family, what am I going to do?” Monet takes out her stationery, and starts to write her signature symbol. Next she writes, “Fashion show postponed until we find the designs and sketches that were stolen.”
“I think I might know where your designs and sketches are,” says one of the head security guards, looking at the security cameras that Journey had forgotten to cover when she engaged in her dastardly deed.
The head security guard points to security footage, where everyone can clearly see Journey leaving the building with all of Monet’s designs and sketches.
“My designs and sketches!” exclaims Monet with a mixture of relief and anger.
Monet knows where to confront Journey. Journey is currently hosting her own over-the-top fashion show on a remote isle near Hawaii. Monet books her flight that instant.
“Journey!” yells Monet with a disgusted tone in her voice. “I will find you, and I will reclaim my designs and sketches back!” she vows aloud.
When Monet finds Journey, she is wearing a magenta shirt that goes past her waist, paired with black pants. The ensemble is one of Monet’s designs. Monet starts to grumble when she sees Journey in one of her outfits. Then she puts Journey’s arms behind her back and gives her to the police, who have been waiting to assist.
“Well, let’s not ruin this fashion show! Tell the models to continue walking the runway in my designs because, as everyone knows, the show must go on!” Monet says with a cheerful tone in her voice.
The Attendance Sheet
I was put in charge of the big fundraiser that we have every year in the park. Part of my job was making sure every guest that the mayor had invited was in attendance. So on the night of the fundraiser, I grabbed the clipboard with all the invited guests’ names on it and waited at the front of the park.
I looked at the list. The knight from the town’s castle was at the top of the list. I thought that was strange, but then a tall man with armor on approached. He gave me a weird look and then walked in. I checked off his name. Next, a big, fat man wearing a bright red suit walked in carrying a bag of presents. I scrolled down to number five and checked off Santa’s name. This continued throughout the night. I checked off two flight attendants, a man that owned a tropical isle, a wrestler wearing a big medal around his waist, and a whole human rights council.
Finally, there was only one person left on the list, so the mayor told me to join the party. He seemed to enjoy having the presence of everyone there. I walked through the aisle between the tables, and then I sat down in the front and watched a lady wearing a chic 1870’s dress make a speech. That’s when I realized that this was a costume party. Suddenly, everything made sense.
It’s late at night, and I have no time to lose. I need to finish my story before I go to bed. My piece of stationery lies there, waiting for me to write. I gaze at my walls, looking for inspiration. Chic celebrities stare back at me. Pressure is escalating. If I don’t finish, I might die. It could affect my grade. I run my fingers through my hair.
“Nice hair, Einstein,” my brother smirks as he passes by. The sarcastic compliment frustrates me even further. When I begin writing, I feel like I have started an ascent. Now I feel like I just ended one, tired and puf
I could really profit from doing a good job, I think to myself. I look up at the zodiac symbols hanging on my wall. I gasp and write something down. A breath of relief fills my lungs. Cymbals clap together in my head, celebrating my accomplishment.
I have defeated writer’s block!
The Lost Tomb
My name is Jackson Johnson. I am an archaeologist. My life’s work has been finding the lost tomb of King Fofermouth III. Three years ago, I was excavating at a dig site. I hit something solid, became excited, and started digging rapidly. I grabbed onto what I had found. I pulled it out of the hole and dusted it off. I put my hand to the lock and pulled on it; nothing budged. I grabbed a rock and hit the lock three hard times, and I heard a small click.
The box opened and inside was a single, blank papyrus scroll. I searched in my workbag and found my blue light. I glowed it on the papyrus and saw the symbol of Ra. Along with the symbol was a map. I had been tracking down where the map might lead for over thirty years. Finding this map was a huge profit for adventure.
The map led me to the capital of Greece, where I saw giant buildings towering over me in the dead of the night. I stumbled around the city angrily. Thirty years of backbreaking labor to find this stupid tomb and the map led me to a bar in Greece? I yelled and threw my beer bottle in frustration. The tile on the ground chipped, shifting so that I stumbled through the aisle to the tile, falling on it, causing it to shatter. I cleared the debris and saw wood. I pushed on the wood and it swung down, exposing stairs.
I looked at the diner attendants not showing any mental attendance, so without them noting I climbed to the stairs, shining my flashlight ahead of me and closing the trapdoor. I looked up and noticed cobwebs and the wood deteriorating. I hopped down the steps. Coming to the end of the stairs, the room curved out, and I could see tons of jewel and medallions and medals. I looked at the wall and discerned hieroglyphs, making out the name of the tomb…Fofermouth.
This was the tomb of King Fofermouth III; the map was right! There were presents in the corner for his afterlife. In the middle was the sword that conquered the Isle of Ronabobee. I had successfully discovered the lost tomb of King Fofermouth III.
The massive, awing presents
the lovely attendants
the chic decorations
the nice compliments
from the exuberant people
the amazing and compelling dancing
the yummy, exquisite night sky cake
will make a party the best
Lucky Lucas and the Leprechaun
I was invited to the emerald isle, which is what Ireland is called. I was happy to go. I wanted to hunt for leprechauns. I was really hoping that if I caught one, it would give me presents of gold. I got on the plane and flew to Ireland.
I had been invited to play for the Fighting Irish hockey team. The college team was very good over there, but the local people did not really know the rules. There was a big council meeting to explain the rules to the local people so they could understand the game. There were about one hundred people in attendance, but one little man dressed in green caught my eye. I would see him; then he would disappear. At the end of the meeting, I saw him get up to go, and I got up to follow him down the aisle.
I heard someone say, “Hi, Counsel,” so I thought he may be a lawyer. I decided to run after him and see where he went. He went out the front door and walked out past the meeting hall and into the forest. I was kind of worried, but I stayed behind him.
The next thing I knew, I was in a clearing, and I saw the man surrounded by leprechauns. . He seemed to be the leader, and the other little leprechauns seemed to be his attendants. They brought him food and water. They must have felt my presence because all of them turned and looked in my direction at once.
I was not sure what to do. I was a bit scared, but I was a lot bigger than them. I looked at the little man who had been at the meeting and told him that I thought he was a lawyer, and I just wanted to meet him. He asked me why I thought he was a lawyer, and I told him that I heard someone call him counsel, but now I knew that he was a leprechaun.
He seemed to get pretty mad, and the other little men started to come toward me. I said, “Go ahead and keep doing what you were doing. I don’t want to meddle.”
He started to laugh, and I realized he was pretty nice. I told him I really came to Ireland to find leprechauns. He wanted to know why, and I told him that I was hoping for some gold. He told me that when I won the hockey game, the medal would be from him and made of real gold. The only thing was that I could not tell anyone I had seen the leprechauns.
I left, and the next day, I played the game of my life and won a nice medal. The people who ran the hockey tournament told me that the medal was not real gold, but at least I would always remember my time on the emerald isle. I told them I was pretty sure that I would.
The Weirdest School Ever
Hi! My name is Ally, and I go to Lincoln Elementary. I’m writing this blog for people who want to learn about my school. My school is not the most normal school ever. I don’t really know how to put it, so just read my blog and you can figure it out.
- The 1st graders: they like to meddle into people’s business and then tell all their friends. The boys also like to dress up as knights.
- The 2nd graders: they are obsessed with getting perfect attendance; it’s the only thing they worry about. They also give each other presents for everything.
- The 3rd graders: they always smell like cheese, and whenever you are in their presence, you have to act like they are the big bosses.
- The 4th graders: they love winning medals for academics, and they are all in student council.
- The 5th graders: they like to act cool by walking down the aisles between desks while doing something they call the “cool walk.” They also say they have parties at night, but we know they don’t.
- The 6th graders: they like to make a profit by selling little kids erasers.
Now that you know a little bit about our special school, I hope you enjoy the next few years you spend in attendance here and have fun.
A Not So Pretty Princess
Once upon a time, there was a not so gorgeous princess named Starla. Starla lived on a beautiful isle in Portugal, where she would plant a chic garden every year, but she never felt herself. She was also kind of bucolic. When Starla was in the presence of a handsome prince, he would just stare at her and make sour faces in disgust. Starla then found out about a council that helped people find their true personalities. Starla thought, “This is perfect for me.”
When the council started, Starla talked to and met many awesome people, and she finally became herself. She won medals for saying her honest opinions about herself and what she thinks she needs to change. Starla still thought about the prince, who also happened to be a knight. Starla would go outside at night and look at the pretty stars and think.
Soon Starla made a profit for standing up in the council, and she achieved all her dreams. Yes, all of them. Starla got married to the charming prince with all her friends giving wedding presents, and Starla’s dad, the prophet, was so proud of her. Finally, I can say Starla lived happily ever after.
Time, Please Cease
Lighten your grasp
on the devastated
attendants of living
who has endured
the waiting of
told by so
Do not wither those
who are abandoned
on a forgotten isle
for it is you, time,
who should age
with the elderly
Let the good
sheikhs have their
and the evil
and have them go
but do not
effect the sun
to destroy them
cease your eternal wretched wrath
and lighten your grasp
against the undeserving.
The Depressed Knight
One very dim, foggy night in the mysterious castle of Sheik, there was a very intimidating and dark knight. The knight, named Ram, was riding his glorious horse in the evening when he was noticing all of the happy people walking around town. He immediately felt extremely depressed because he felt like he never really felt glad at all. He wanted to change this as soon as possible and feel a feeling he’d never felt before.
One glamorous day, Ram wanted people to be a little more respectful to him. He went up to a number of people, asking them for compliments. His profit, unfortunately for him, was nothing, which had an enormous effect on his sadness. As he walked around, he was very sad and droopy. He dreamed that one day the people’s stationary symbol for him would represent him as a generous and kind young man.
Since obviously this plan wasn’t working, Ram had to make an extreme trick that HAD to work. His trick was to sell/give away chic clothes to all the townspeople who loathed him. As his plan eventually worked, he became a prophet and improved his act because he was young when this terrible incident occurred.
Henry loved flying, the feeling of wind rushing through his feathers, lazily riding on an air current; everything about it was spectacular. Henry especially valued the great view from up there, now the people were smaller than he, and he liked that thought a lot. He was in the middle of a particularly pleasurable flight when he saw her. He swiveled his head around to get a better look at her, realizing too late that he was not looking where he was going. THUNK! Henry slammed into a building and fell like a rock sinking in water. Another thunk and a few slams later, a slightly embarrassed and shocked Henry landed not so gracefully on the sidewalk. He shook his head, ruffled his feathers, and strutted away, deciding to go back to his nest and come back to the lovely bird when he was in a more stately manner.
The next morning was a glorious one indeed! The sun was shining bright making Henry want to sing, and so he did as he made his way along the sidewalk towards that striking, feminine bird. He nervously clutched a rolled up piece of stationery in his beak, his intent being to “accidentally” drop it at her feet so that she would read it. Henry had witnessed this technique several times, and the effect was almost always positive. Henry considered this very in, the whole secret admirer thing. As he neared the bird perched on the stone handrail leading to an apartment, he did a quick preen, then ascended the stairs. He tried to appear in a hurry; then, in an unceremonious way, he dropped the stationary as he launched into the sky. The plan had worked! Henry hastened to circle back and put the second part of the plan into action.
Henry flew low over his loved one. He perched next to her, but not wanting to scare her away, he gave her some room.
“You have very lovely tail feathers,” he cooed his compliment in her ear. She didn’t react to this remark, but Henry didn’t mind. “Oh! How very rude of me. I forgot to introduce myself! I’m Henry.” Henry extended his wing. His female companion didn’t seem to have heard him. She must be very shy he thought.
Henry visited Gloria every day. He decided to name her that for the flower symbol on her chest, it looked to him like a morning glory, and they were his favorite flower. On the third day, he took a different approach, and this time came from behind her, shouting, “BOO!” when he was upon her. Still, Gloria stayed stubbornly stationary, not an eye blinked, not a feather moved. Henry was mystified, stumped, but he shook off the strangeness of it all and continued to fawn over her.
The next day, Henry dropped the bomb on Gloria, “Are we, you know, girlfriend and boyfriend?” Henry squawked timidly. She gave no assent, but he took her silence as a yes. He was elated. For the first time, Henry moved as though to cuddle with her, and when she made no move to stop him, he did. He was struck by several things at first: one, how cold she was, and two, how hard and impenetrable she seemed. He hoped whatever had affected her wouldn’t affect him. Then it struck him; she was dead! He felt as though his head had been in the way of two colliding cymbals. To make matters worse, it started to rain. Henry looked over at Gloria and saw a tear streak down her face. My birds! She was alive. Henry suddenly felt very silly. Of course she was alive; he would have sensed if otherwise.
“Phew! I thought you were gone there for a second,” sobbed Henry, crying now himself. She wasn’t moved by his open display of feelings towards her. Now Henry was getting miffed. She didn’t react when he cried, or when he gave her a flower and said it complimented her eyes, or when Henry first put his sheltering wing around her!
“We are done, through, finished, over!” Henry ranted. He wanted to leave an impression on her, but she remained as vacant faced as ever.
“Girlfriends are overrated,” he muttered as walked away, never once looking back, never intending to return!
Passing by on their way to the park, a little girl clasping hands with her mother giggled, as she said, “Look, Mommy! That silly birdie thinks the stone birdie is real!”
Once Upon a Time
by Dianna G.
Once upon a time, there was a chic princess named Princess Elegance. Princess Elegance played an instrument called the cymbal. She played it so beautifully that she received gold coins from admirers, even though she had most of the gold coins in the Kingdom of Night. The kingdom’s royal symbol was a picture of a moon, which was on all of the coins. In addition to gold coins, the people in the Kingdom of Night always wrote beautiful compliments to Princess Elegance, and they always wrote these on lovely stationery. That way it was more “elegant.”
One day, Princess Elegance was walking in the market to find vegetables. She saw a sign that read “New Instrument Competition for the Kingdom of Night. So, Princess Elegance dropped her freshly picked vegetables, ran all the way back home to her castle, and grabbed a candle to light her way in her enormous closet so she could find her cymbal. However, Princess Elegance had to hurry because the effect of the candle was that the wax would melt. She found her cymbal and ran back to play her instrument, hoping to win the competition.
When it was Princess Elegance’s turn to play, her cymbal was the perfect complement to her beautiful lyrics. As the crowd was listening, everyone remained stationary in the seats. During the show, one of the lights went out, but that didn’t affect Princess Elegance’s playing. When Princess Elegance finished her performance, she made her ascent to stand and then bow for the crowd.
The judges conferred and made their final assent. They called all the contestants to the stage and announced the winner. The winner was…………………………………Princess Elegance!
My Father’s Dream!
I lay in my secret fort, made up of chic sheets. Being covered in my chic sheets makes me feel content. My thoughts and emotions are drained out of my brain. I want my daddy; I want everything to be what is was like before every detail of my life was pulverized. It all happened so fast. In the blink of an eye, it all went goodbye. The darkness is my home; the shadows are my lifestyle. You might say I took a depressing wrong turn. You can’t blame a twelve-year-old girl for being depressed when her father, her shining knight, recently was part of an illegal scheme against the government, which caused him to get murdered.
I tell myself that I was the blame. If I hadn’t been born, my father wouldn’t have had to pay extra money for food. If he didn’t have to pay extra money, then my father would probably be here today. He would have been making a profit instead of being in bankruptcy. The pit of my stomach solidifies into a knot. I can’t breathe. The last time my father was present is something I will always treasure, and I will always cherish the times he’d say, “Never, ever, lie!” And I didn’t. When somebody told me to speak the truth, you bet I would. I guess that rule doesn’t apply to adults because if it did, I bet my dad would have had a lot of explaining to do.
I am still in my cocoon of covers. No crevice of the real world will ever leak into my very own world. I am here alone. No one understands my world; no one will ever get what I’m going through. A voice breaks into my thoughts.
“Elle, honey, you are going to have to visit the real world sooner or later,” my mom says in an empathetic way.
“Never,” I spit. I wait for a response; nothing. No trace of my voice has been heard. Is this a trick? I ponder to myself. Is this a way of luring me into the real world. If it is, I won’t crack. I steadily move my hand across a blank notebook. I draw things ordinary people would think are too busy, or some think to be too simple. I draw what make sense…to only me. When my father was alive, I would always meddle into his work. Before the life-threatening job, he did have a normal job. He would sketch out ideas or changes he could make to businesses. He would sketch till his hand would cry in agony. Until, he got cheated. His ideas were brilliant, so brilliant that his council members at work were taking advantage of my father. Soon enough, he was robbed of his ideas that he had dreamed of patenting. This stolen ingenious idea was a design for creating a flying automobile.
I would sit by his side whenever he would work at home. I would create colors and themes for each of the cars. All those fond memories hover about in my head now. The last thing I remember before he died were the last three words I heard drip out of his mouth, “Protect the chest.”
I had tried to piece the words together, but could never figure it out…until I found it. I had found the chest in the middle of the night. I was in my basement probing all of the aisles that held the labeled boxes of my baby clothes or the ones labeled “Elle’s Summer Clothes.” I gave a faint smile when I came upon some paints that I had used to make a “best dad” medal. It turned out that all of the paints had dried out, just like my life felt dried out, over. I was sad to see all the vivid, stunning colors, such as azure, periwinkle, sapphire blue, lavender, and pastel pink, were dull and dried. My eyes were about to give up due to the dust, till I took a glimpse of an old chest with a blanket of dust covering the silhouette of the chest. I lifted the ancient lid to discover many of my father’s patents. My eyes sparkled; maybe my father’s patents never were actually stolen. I guess my father’s attendants, who worked with him, really did care for him to safely guard his ideas in the chest. Maybe I can step into the real world and follow through on his marvelous ideas.
by Diana M.
“NO, I already said no; plus, Mom doesn’t even let us go to the basement, anyway,” I declare as I tried to shake her off.
“But she isn’t even here, and neither is Dad, so please, please,” she begs as she kneels on the floor as if to pray.
I sigh, and think and sigh, “Fine,” I say as I let my backpack drop on the floor and head toward the basement downstairs. She runs in front of me, and again, I just sigh.
Once there, I nudge the door, and it is opens. I just stare at Scarlett, and she gives me a weak smile, but I just roll my eyes. I switch on the lights, and the first thing that reaches my eye amongst the aisles of boxes and shelves is the bookshelf, and I run toward it.
“Where did this come from?” I ask as I scan the books from the first shelf to the last, but only one book catches my attention. “The Knight in Shining Armor,” I read as I sit on the side of the old couch stored in the basement. I feel my sister plop on my side.
“Read it, read it, read it, read it, oh, please, read it,” Scarlett whines pleadingly and looks at me as if about to start to cry.
Once again, I sigh, and I open the book, beginning to read:
The Knight in Shining Armor.
Once, in the time where kings ruled the lands, a knight lived with a dream to impress the princess of the royal kingdom. One day, the knight decided to visit the kingdom. When he arrived, the presence of so many
people there was wild. He stood in the distance, beyond the guards in attendance, hoping they would think that he was the knight for the princess (which he was).
“Who are you, and why do you choose to enter,” a voice boomed as the knight’s horse stepped back. The knight looked to the sky, trying to think of an excuse for his presence.
“I am here to declare a deal with the king,” lied the knight as he tried not to look at the guards, who both looked at one another and then opened the doors. The knight looked surprised by what the guards had done. The knight entered and looked for a safe stall in which to keep the horse while he went searching for the king. A perfect stall waited in the middle of what seemed to be two stalls holding two beautiful white stallions.
After what seemed to be about three hours, the knight finally found the room that contained the king. To the knight’s surprise, the doors was open, and there were no attendants in sight. He headed toward the door, remaining silent so as to hear the conversation between the king and the princess.
“….But why can’t I choose my prince, and I know many men who desire this position?” whined the princess.
“Because, if they entirely desire this position, then they have to……umm…..huh…ahh…fight in the war on the far isle,” decided the king as if to be fully on with this idea.
“I’ll do it,” shouted the knight as the king and princess jumped to the surprise of the knight.
“A meddler! Guards, guards, intruder!” shouted the king for the guards.
“No, stop, Father. This man has the right to fight, and I give him the permission to lead the army of our beloved kingdom,” demanded the princess as she held onto the king.
“If you desire, my daughter. But, If you fail to win the war, you shall die!” warned the king as if already wishing to kill him.
“That is fair, but if I win?” questioned the knight seeming to want more.
“An award. A medal, a ………….Just that and the position to become the chosen one for my daughter, the new king,” ended the king with a sigh.
That present night, the knight set off for the closest dock to set out for the upcoming war.
Three days later, the knight returned with an army (well half of an army, but an army), and to the king’s and princess’s surprise, the king indeed gave the knight the promised profit, and they lived happily ever after (well from what we know).
“That was great,” I say as I notice my sister sleeping. I sigh, and then join her.
A Normal Day
“Boy, I wish it were night, so I could be just going to bed now,” I whispered to my kitten.
She perked one eye open and yawned, letting her rosy, pink tongue out of her mouth. I had to go to school soon and was not happy, but I felt like this every morning. I was a person who hated getting up so early in the morning. Why couldn’t school start at ten or at least nine-thirty? I knew that no matter how much I wanted to go back to bed and sleep for another hour or two, I couldn’t, so I began my morning routine. I got into some clothes, combed my hair, and put on some Country Chic body lotion. I loved the title of that lotion. Chic was such a pretty word meaning stylish and elegant. Next, I would eat and get my stuff for school ready.
When I arrived to school and the bell rang, everyone stampeded into the classroom, running away from the chilly morning air. My teacher called attendance and found out that seven people were not at school. I didn’t know why, but I wished I was one of them. Immediately, we started talking about boring history.
“The knights would wear very heavy metal and…..” My teacher started saying; then I zoned out. Who cared about knights? I sure didn’t. I drifted off into another world. Then I awoke from my pleasant daydream with my teacher calling out my name.
“Samantha, do you know the answer?” my teacher blurted waving her hands like a crazy monkey.
I thought for a moment, realizing I was still in class. My head felt dizzy, and I tried to look at her, but my eyes were still blurry.
“What was the question?” I asked, regaining my focus. I rubbed my head and opened my eyes like I was really interested in what her answer was going to be.
I heard a few giggles from behind me, but those were only the really smart kids who paid attention every second and knew everything. I didn’t really care. I was smart. I just didn’t care much for hearing about knights and castles. My teacher looked annoyed, but repeated the question through her gritted teeth. I could tell she was not in the mood for my zoning out and not paying attention in the class.
“Do you know who was King Arthur’s friend and knight?” she asked.
I knew that; I wasn’t lacking intelligence. “Sir Lancelot,” I answered, smiling a little and hoping for her forgiveness again.
My teacher’s frown turned into a slight smile, and she nodded in approval.
Later that day, right before lunch, the student council representatives in my class told us about the profit we made from last night’s pasta feed. I zoned out about halfway through that, too. I have to admit, though, it was more interesting than the knights and castles.
When the lunch bell rang, I got up and walked with my group of friends down the hall. Our school was indoors. The halls reminded me of the aisles in the grocery store. The lockers would be the food. I don’t know why it reminded me of that, it just did.
It felt like forever, but finally the school day ended. It might seem like a bad day, but for me it was just a normal day.
The Case of the Murderous Mother
“Yes, Ma’am, I will start right away,” I responded to Ms. Jenkins.
It was a dark, stormy night in New York City, and I was on duty. I had just gained another case. I was excited I was getting profit, but I was very upset because I was missing my daughter’s birthday. I had given her a piece of stationery congratulating her on her birthday. I had also given her a chic purse that was very snazzy.
Okay, onto the story. I set out to the crime scene to see what clues and symbols I could find.
When I arrived at the crime scene, police were surrounding the area. Ms.Jenkins was sobbing…her son had been murdered. All I could do that minute was compliment her to cheer her up, at least a little. Even though she was crying, her behavior was very weird and I could feel it in the air.
“So, Ms. Jenkins, when was the last time you saw your son?” I questioned her.
She did not answer. Something smelled fishy.
The next day I brought Ms. Jenkins in for further questioning.
“Last night you did not answer my question. You were probably too sad and upset. So, when was the last time you saw your son before this catastrophe happened?” I asked.
“Well, I was in the kitchen… never mind,” Ms.Jenkins said.
“Ms. Jenkins, you need to answer me,” I commanded.
There was a long pause before she started talking. I could see her thinking about what she was going to say. Her brain was working hard and very obvious like cymbals crashing.
“Do you know anything about this event other than that your son was killed?” I think I was getting to the bottom of this.
“Okay, okay. I was the one who killed my son!!!” she screamed with terror. “He was spending too much time with his girlfriend, and he was making me angry. So, last night I used some special effects to make it look like somebody else killed him, even though it was really me. After I had killed him, I called the cops and you because I didn’t know what to do,” she exclaimed.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Jenkins, but you will have to go see the judge for a trial. But, what is probably going to happen is that you will be sentenced to thirty years in prison for murdering your son,” I explained.
“I know. I knew it was going to affect me a lot,” she said.
Right then and there, I could tell she wanted a knight in shining armor to come take her away to a magical place with no sons spending too much time with girlfriends, no murders, and no prison.
The Birthday Burglar
It was the night before my birthday and all I could think about was all of the presents that I would obtain. I fell into a deep sleep and woke up at the crack of dawn to see what I had gotten for my birthday. I looked over at the table and I gasped! My presents were not there! I wondered where they were so I asked my mom and dad. They seemed bewildered, and the expressions on their faces were not good. Then I looked at the kitchen; it was empty. We had been robbed. I felt depressed; I had wanted that toy knight so badly. Whoever did this had a mean way of making a profit, that’s for sure. I wrote about the incident in my student council speech, and I inspired everyone to help us get our belongings back after school. Unfortunately, no one could find any evidence of the thief so I went to the police about it. I even went to my grandpa about it because he was a wise old sheikh so I knew he could help. It was like he was a prophet, and he could predict all kinds of things that would happen. In fact, I tried to enlist everyone to help. I even asked the chic girl on the corner if she could help. I then met up with the police because I knew they would counsel me about the robbery. I walked through the aisle between my neighbor’s house and mine to see if I could find any trace of footprints.
Surprisingly, I saw footprints! They looked like they came from a woman’s size Converse. As I walked into class the next day, my teacher was giving me funny looks, and it was like she was trying to ignore me. I took the attendance list up to the office, and I noticed something strange; my teacher was wearing Converse shoes that were about the same size as the footprint I had seen earlier. She continued to give me strange looks, and then I noticed her earrings because they were my mom’s earrings! I swiftly grabbed my cell phone and called 911 when she wasn’t looking. The police came and told my teacher she had to tell them were the stolen goods were or she would be arrested. Of course, the funny thing was she was going to be arrested anyway so it didn’t matter. The cops got their other attendants and arrested my teacher. Then they paused, they said she was one of FBI’s top ten most wanted. They came up to me and gave me a medal along with fifty bucks for catching the criminal! My teacher would be imprisoned on an isle in the middle of San Francisco Bay. The cops promised that she would never meddle in my business ever again. I was not sad to be rid of my teacher. She never was a very nice teacher, and I was always nervous around her presence. I went home, and my heart stopped. There sitting on the table was the best present of all, the toy knight.
The Student Council Meeting
“Okay, everyone. I am going to take attendance to see how many attendants we have,” Steven, the student council president, stated. I will take attendance by going down the aisles to determine who is here and who isn’t,” Steven added as he began walking down the rows of desks to see the amount of students present. “Okay, we have three out of ten students….”
“Better than last week,” Becca, the student council vice president, yelled out.
“Indeed, but we still need to do much, much better if we want to keep this club going,” Steven replied.
“Well, what are we even going to do?” asked Brad, a new member of the student council team. “Give everybody who joins a medal?!!?”
“Well, I would enjoy having the presence in this room be more than three people,” Kate added.
“Indeed. it does feel like we are stranded on a deserted isle when we have this few people in attendance. Perhaps we should put up posters and maybe give out student council pencils to each class,” suggested Steven.
“Maybe if we do some meddling we can get the message announced over the loud speaker into classrooms,” added Brad.
“Brilliant idea!” Kate exclaimed.
“All right, then. It is settled. Our mission must be completed,” Steven stated.
A Talent Show to Remember
“Mom, are you ready?” called Lindsay from her room.
“Honey, I am packing your clothes in a plastic bag,” Lindsay’s mom yelled down the stairs, trying to make sure that every piece of clothing was ready.
Tonight was the Pinewood Elementary School’s talent show, put on by the student council. There would also be a snack bar for everyone to enjoy. The students were guaranteed the snack bar would make a big profit because the proceeds would help the sixth grade attend camp.
The talent show was an enormous commitment, but Lindsay did not care. She didn’t mind going to practice every Wednesday. Lindsay was committed to dancing. She loved it and had perfect attendance for the whole month because of the talent show. There were many rules to follow, and one big one was to never put down other people’s acts and to treat everyone with respect. Lindsay would never meddle in someone else’s act because she was afraid of being disqualified.
“Mom, come on! Let’s go!” shouted Lindsay, as she shoved her make-up kit in the car.
“Coming,” whispered her mom, while she was grabbing everything she needed.
When they got to the school, it was lit up in tiny white colors. This year’s theme was “The Knight in the Castle.” It was going to be so beautiful and amazing.
“Mom, hurry! I need my stuff,” insisted Lindsay, yelling in her mom’s ear.
“Okay,” muttered her mom, a big frown directed at her daughter.
Lindsay was the type of girl who always got what she wanted and was a mean person although her looks were nice. She had great long red hair that stopped at her shoulders and freckles that lined her nose.
* * *
As Lindsay looked out from behind the curtain, she saw her dad. His presence caused a huge grin to grow on her face. “Dad,” she whispered.
Right then it hit Lindsay that being nice was the only important thing. she realized that being kind brought her much more happiness.
* * *
Everybody watched in amazement as Lindsay danced up and down the aisle. She watched her dad and mom grinning at their little girl who was growing up so fast.
Soon the judges took the stage to announce the winners. The second and third place winners were Ashley, singing “To Bless the Broken Road,” and Tracy, playing the piano. The two winners took their tiny presents and walked off the stage. Now it was time for the first place winner. “The winner is….Lindsay,” called judge one. Everyone rose to their feet and started yelling and cheering.
Lindsay asked for the microphone. “I noticed that being nice means a lot. So I think everyone deserves this prize,” she said, as she took the flowers and medal from the judge’s hand. Lindsay removed the individual flowers from the bouquet and handed each participant a flower. “You really deserve this…Thank you,” Lindsay said into the microphone, a tear running down her cheek.
Then Lindsay passed a flower to her friend. “You are a great friend, and if there were an award for sweetest, you would definitely come in first place,” whispered her friend in Lindsay’s ear. They hugged and walked out into the night together.